snatched
new moon altar when kidnapped by NYC with a very long cold
confessions to actually hold my self accountable,
in response to chronic illness i fell into a number of
unpleasurable numbing strategies & methods of self-improvement
and the result is now
my life is one where i spend the majority of my time
not in my pleasure / joy / artistic delight / sensuality / witchiness
& the result is that i feel anorexically deprived and almost kind of starved
emotionally, erotically, spiritually, artistically -
and in the dark of this gemini new moon i want to name the buzzkills
in my life to exorcise them,
and name the juicy delicious i want to experience more of,
so i can embody a more full & authentic self -
newsflash (do those exist any more?):
we’re living in a very capitalistic, quick, digitized, disconnected, numbed out world
(woof, that gives me grief. pouring one out from my ginger tea.)
& becoming artistically anorexic is extremely easy.
it’s easier to read a lot of think pieces online about indie film out of a weird obligation because they showed up in my inbox…
then to head to the indie theater and just pick a movie and see it -
have a sensual, embodied experience with popcorn in a dark communal room.
in NY i have experienced a kind of experiential sensuality that’s been missing-
attending a film premiere, being on a party bus to an underground party, being at a Hell’s Kitchen bar while the Knicks won!, seeing my niece’s dance show with live drumming & violin, followed by spaghetti dinner & a long walk through the park -
my sickness has reminded me that NYC provides constant embodied sensual artistic inspiration. the hum pushes you and you ride it. i feel a really important return to a self i thought had died - with chronic illness, adult parent divorce, pandemic.
& now as i feel it again i want to trust that it can be real, it can be something that i have, and am, and allow it to electrify me, motivate me, carry me into creation.
okay, here are my lists to practice this summer, because honestly?
my life does depend on it. a life in which i actually feel alive.
EXORCISE THE BUZZKILLS:
Actually reading every email newsletter out of obligation - DELETE.
Too much routine
Fighting with my partner draining both our energies
Too much work on our relationship, killing our joy
Faux aimlessness created from the fog of consumption
Compare & despair
Binge watching TV
Counting calories and macros
An over-disciplined exercise regiment that didn’t feel good any more
Letting my anxiety about my cat stop me from enjoying my life, enough!
The illusion that I need to be reading the news to be well or do my work
Dragging on decluttering
Anxiety about my health - and spiraling to do research
Worrying about sh*t I can’t control & hasn’t happened yet
SLURP UP THE DELICIOUS:
Life IRL, amplified
Crisp career goals
An airtight, disciplined work schedule & goals - just fucking do it
Weekly dance class
Daily dance parties
Camping
Niece + Nephew as a general life priority
Reading a complete play or script
Watching a complete movie for artistic inspiration (not junk)
Movement for exercise that feels like an adventure
Swimming
Fun travel plans
Frankie snuggles + play
Something erotic and private, not sure what it is yet!
A secret creative world & spiritual altar
Gently re-exploring larger community spaces that feel yummy, for the following themes: performing, writing, filmmaking, poetry, poetry performance, Jewish life.
A really yummy acting class or experience that puts me in my body and authentic self-expression
Staying hydrated
Freedom & independence - be more selfish, be more free, do more me
Complete the decluttering project in June
Make my office in June. An office where I dance, talk out loud, sing, shout and make.
Well let’s consider this Substack my new moon altar, a ritual of my own making.
I hope it inspires you into your own embodied self, if that’s something you want.
And if you send any evil eye or any negativity on my aspirations,
my ancestors will haunt you and your spawn for thousands of years.
And my ancestors are fucking fierce.
Love ya,
Melanie Zoey